Christmas
by Angel16
Summary: COMPLETE Christmas onboard Enterprise.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Christmas  
  
By: Angel  
  
Rating: G  
  
Summary: Different Christmases aboard Enterprise.  
  
Disclaimers: Don't own 'em, not makin' any money off this. Yada, yada.  
  
Archive: With permission  
  
Notes: First, I haven't forgotten "Confessions", still working on Chapter 3, but this wrote itself overnight in my brain and when I got up today my hands forced me to sit and type it out. There are two more chapters to this one as well, and they are already scripted in my head, but my hands got tired and went on strike. So, they will be out shortly. Secondly, I know some people will wonder about the celebration of Christmas onboard Enterprise, but in TOS they still celebrate Thanksgiving (Charlie X), so why not Christmas, a much older and worldwide tradition? Finally, I'm still trying to learn to write from a specific POV, so this may be a little shaky. I promise that aspect will get better.  
  
As always, feedback is greatly appreciated and hastens the completion of future works.  
  
1st Christmas (Trip's pov)  
  
The three top officers of the Enterprise had just sat down to breakfast at the Captain's table. "Good Morning, sir, Commander," T'Pol stated politely, nodding in turn to each of her companions.  
  
Commander Tucker's smile broadened as he cast a glance across the table. He knew that she found such pleasantries to be highly illogical. 'We must be growing on her', he thought. He replied, "Merry Christmas, Sub- Commander." His grin only grew at her look of dismay. Turning to their Captain, he continued. "Jon, Merry Christmas."  
  
"Excuse me, Commander," the Vulcan woman's voice held no trace of inflection, however Trip thought he detected irritation in the slight raise of her brow. "But is this some new greeting I am unfamiliar with?"  
  
Trip laughed aloud and noticed the Captain hide his smirk behind his napkin. "No, no, T'Pol," he managed. "Today is Christmas Day. It's a pretty important holiday back on Earth." He reached below the table and pulled up two packages wrapped carefully in red and green plaid paper with golden bows on top. He was immediately grateful that he'd gotten to breakfast first that day so the gifts would be a surprise.  
  
"Here you are, Jon." Trip placed one present in front of his Captain.  
  
Archer looked slightly taken aback. "Thanks, Trip." Hesitantly, the Captain continued, "I have something for you, too, but I left it in my quarters."  
  
Commander Tucker continued without pause, waving his hand at his friend, "Don't worry about it, Jon. I know we didn't plan on exchanging gifts. I just wanted to."  
  
T'Pol watched the conversation with interest. "Did you not just give the Captain a package for his birthday 32 days ago?" she asked.  
  
"Well, yes, T'Pol, but one of the best things about Christmas is giving gifts to the people that mean the most to you." With that, he almost reluctantly pushed the remaining present to T'Pol. "I know we haven't always gotten along," he started, his eyes cast toward the table, "but, I thought it'd be nice to make a truce." He finished pushing the box to her and she reached out to accept it.  
  
"Thank you, Commander. I accept your offer of civility." Tentatively, she removed the bow and slipped her finger under the edge of the paper to gently pry it up.  
  
'I can't believe she's going to unwrap it like that!' Trip thought. "Just rip it! Part of the fun is the tearing paper sound," the engineer said. Commander Tucker looked at the Captain with exasperation.  
  
"I see no logical reason to destroy the wrapping when it can be used again if caution is shown." She had paused in her unwrapping and was looking as quizzical as a Vulcan could at Trip.  
  
"Fine, do it your way," his tone betrayed his sense of disappointment. He knew she would never admit it, but he had hoped she would enjoy this experience. Despite their rocky start, he had come to respect the Sub- Commander and was even beginning to consider her a friend. He wanted her to see the fun humans could have, the simple things their emotions allowed them to share in, like giving gifts. Not that he wanted to make her human, or anything. He just wanted her to appreciate them.  
  
Her expression never changed, but Trip thought he saw something behind her eyes. If she were human, he would have called it guilt. She resumed opening the present, but this time she tore the paper mercilessly. Even when it was falling off the gift, she continued to shred it. Finally, she stopped. Looking at her fellow officer, she asked, "Is that sufficient?" Trip did his best to stifle a laugh as he nodded.  
  
Meanwhile, the Captain had opened his gift as well. He turned the bottle of fine scotch over in his hand, admiring the age of the amber beverage. "Whew! Trip this is a fine bottle of whiskey. How'd you manage this way out here?"  
  
The engineer was beaming, proud of his choice. "I brought it with us from home. I've been dying to give it to ya."  
  
"Join me for a sample later this evening?" Archer asked as he set the bottle aside for now.  
  
"Absolutely. Why'd ya think I picked such a good brand?" He smiled at his friend; glad the present was so well received. Then, he looked across the table to gauge T'Pol's reaction to her gift.  
  
She held the fine leather bound tome delicately in her hands. "Well? What'd'ya think?" he asked with a hint of anticipation. Although he had expected to have a difficult time choosing a gift for her, once he thought about it the choice was obvious.  
  
"It is...a book. That is most inefficient. Text on padd media is much longer lasting and takes less space for storage." She continued to examine the spine and gold-embossed pages of the volume.  
  
Sighing heavily, Trip declared, "I am well aware of that, Sub-Commander." His tone threatened to violate his recently declared truce. "I was raised to believe that some things are more important than efficiency and storage space. To truly appreciate literature, you need to turn the pages. There's nothing wrong with padds, but for some things they just won't do."  
  
"It is a collection of works by a man named 'William Shakespeare'. Is there some reason why his writings must be read on paper?" Her inquiry prickled his nerves.  
  
"He's only the foremost expert on the complexity of human emotion and one of the finest writers to ever put pen to paper. His plays will make you laugh and cry and everything in between. Well, maybe not you, but maybe you will better understand some of what makes us tick." He glanced at their Captain for assistance. "Isn't that right, Jon?"  
  
A weird smile crossed the Captain's face before he replied, "I can't speak for myself, I've never really been a Shakespeare fan, more of a Dickens type. In fact, I'm surprised that you're such a literature buff, Trip."  
  
A wistful look came over the Commander's face as he explained. "Well, my great-aunt Bessie, the one my baby sister Elizabeth's named for, is an English Literature teacher. She used to read Shakespeare to us when we would visit her. Got me hooked."  
  
T'Pol had opened the cover and was examining an inscription. "I believe this book has been previously owned. There is a personal message written inside reminding the owner that, 'the angels and ministers of grace defend us'. However, there are no names, so we can not find the proper owner, just a large letter 'B' as a signature."  
  
Trip looked shyly down. "Yeah, sorry about that. That particular copy is from my personal collection. It was a gift from Aunt Bessie when I graduated from Starfleet Academy."  
  
Abruptly, T'Pol attempted to hand the book back across the table to the Commander. "I can not accept this gift," she stated. "Surely, it has sentimental value to you, and therefore would not be a logical choice to give away."  
  
But Trip held up his hands and insisted, "No, I mean yes, it does have sentimental value, but the best gifts usually do. What's the point in giving something meaningless? Besides, it's not like I came out here planning to give you a book on Shakespeare. There just aren't any others available right now." He looked in her eyes, "Please accept it. If I didn't want you to have it, I wouldn't have given it to you."  
  
Reluctantly she acquiesced. She placed the book down carefully on the table and said, "I appreciate the gift most emphatically Commander. I shall endeavor to appreciate the author's words as well, even if they do prove to be overly-emotional."  
  
Smiling, Trip said, "That's a start."  
  
End Chapter 1  
  
Notes: I'm unaware of the Captain's birthday having been mentioned on the show. So, I just made that bit up, but if anyone knows different, let me know. Also, yes, I intentionally made T'Pol's unwrapping technique similar to that of Data in TNG's ep 'Measure of a Man'. 


	2. 2nd Christmas

Title: Christmas, Chapter 2  
  
By: Angel  
  
Disclaimers: See Ch 1  
  
Notes: Okay, I'm still working on learning to write specific POV. Let me know what you think. It feels weird to try to be inside someone else's head. I really want to get it right though, because the next chapter will be much stronger if I'm successful at it.  
  
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2nd Christmas (T'Pol's POV)  
  
As I rang the Commander's door chime, I glanced down at the small package held firmly in my hand. The door opened to reveal him in his off-duty attire. He looked sleepy and the lights in his quarters were dimmed.  
  
"I apologize for disturbing you, Commander. You are preparing for your evening rest. I shall speak with you tomorrow." I started to turn away before he could respond.  
  
"Wait, T'Pol. It's okay; I could use a little company. The past few days have been crazy. Come on in." He stepped aside to allow me entry. I paused momentarily before following him in. After the door closed behind me, he asked, "So, what brings you here?" His voice is not unpleasant, but I begin to question the logic of my visit.  
  
However, since I was already there, I decided to continue with my purpose. "I brought you your Christmas present since you were unable to join the Captain and myself at breakfast today." Awkwardly, I held out the small package. He looked slightly confused, then placed his hand on his forehead.  
  
"Aw, geez, T'Pol. I didn't realize I'd be seein' ya' today. Yours isn't wrapped."  
  
"That is acceptable," I said, although I would miss the anticipation of opening the paper. I gave him his gift and thought of the past year as I watched him unwrap it.  
  
  
  
_"Explain to me why Juliet committed suicide when she found her lover dead."  
  
"Because she couldn't bear the thought of life without him."  
  
"That is highly illogical. She was extremely young, even for a human. Surely she would have acquired a new mate."  
  
"That's not the point at all, T'Pol! It's about undying love and irreplaceable passion."  
  
"I would not call double suicide 'undying love', Commander Tucker."  
  
He merely shook his head at that point and walked away.  
_  
  
  
As my thoughts returned to the present, I looked over at the engineer to find him turning the small text over in his hands. I had been too distracted to hear the sound of paper tearing. Unfortunate.  
  
"I thought real books were inefficient, Sub-Commander," he said with a smile.  
  
"They are, however you deem them of value. If you would prefer, I will exchange it for a padd," I offered, reaching out to retrieve the book.  
  
Immediately the Commander clutched it to his chest. "Not on your life!" As he resumed examining his gift, my mind drifted back again.  
  
  
  
_"Do all of Mr. Shakespeare's stories involve most of the cast dying?"  
  
"No, not at all. Those are called 'the tragedies'. However, the comedies are wonderful, too."  
  
"I look forward to reading some of them. It is...disturbing to continue with a story knowing that the characters will meet a foul end."  
  
"Does that mean it makes you sad?" He smiled at that.  
  
"Sadness is a human emotion, as you well know. I simply see no point in becoming interested in a character merely to find him deceased within an act or two."  
  
_  
  
His voice returned me to the here and now. "This looks like a fascinatin' book. 'The Logic of Life', by Silock and T'Ver. What's it about?"  
  
"It is the authors' interpretation of many of Surak's basic tenants. I had hoped you would better understand what makes Vulcans 'tick'." Pausing, I debated whether to continue. I decided I would. "I found it to be a most enlightening text during my formative years."  
  
"Really? Well, then, I can hardly wait to read it." He opened the cover and examined the inscription I had written in it late last evening. "May this book bring you clarity." He looked up at me and tilted his head to the side. "Clarity? Are you sayin' I'm cloudy?" During our time serving together on Enterprise, I'd come to recognize his current smile as one of gentle teasing.  
  
"You may interpret it in any way you see fit." My posture did not reveal my impatience to receive my own gift. Last year's present from the Commander had proved to be more enjoyable than I would have thought possible. I realize the illogic in expressing both impatience and enjoyment; however, I have come to accept that such emotions occasionally occur and have determined that to deny them is more illogical than to acknowledge them and move on.  
  
"So, I guess you're waitin' fer yer gift?" he asked with a wink. I noticed the thickness of his accent. In the past, this has happened when Commander Tucker is extremely emotional. "Well, never let it be said that I kept a lady waitin'!" He opened his locker and retrieved what appears to be a large storage bowl. "I hope you enjoy!"  
  
I accepted the proffered bowl and looked inside. There were several large pieces of fresh plomeek. They appeared to be recently removed from the vine. "Where did you get these?" I asked.  
  
"Well, my momma always said that the only way to make real soup is with fresh veggies. I know you've said that Chef's plomeek soup isn't quite up to snuff, and I figured it was probably cuz he uses dried veggies. So, I started a bit of a garden. I've been growin' 'em in one of the doc's incubation chambers for a few months now. There's more to the crop, but I didn't want to pick 'em all at once. 'Sides, I staggered the plantin' so you should have fresh plomeek about every two weeks for the next three months"  
  
"This is quite exceptional, Commander," I stated honestly. "Plomeek is notoriously difficult to grow."  
  
"Aw, it wasn't so bad." He looked down and I noticed a slight pick tinge come over his ears.  
  
"I should go now." I turned to go as his voice followed me. "Merry Christmas, T'Pol. Good night."  
  
"Good night, Commander. And Merry Christmas." I paused before exiting and faced him again. "Would you join me for a bowl of soup for tomorrow's evening meal?"  
  
He smiled broadly. "I would be honored, Sub-Commander."  
  
As the door closed behind me, I thought of yet another conversation from the past.

.

_"I have recently finished reading one of 'the comedies' you spoke so highly of, Commander." It required much effort to keep the exasperation I felt suppressed.  
  
He stopped eating and looked up at me. "Really? Which one? Did ya' like it?"  
  
"'The Taming of the Shrew'. I am not certain. What is the logic of Kate's motivations?"  
  
"For which action?" he asked with a tilt of his head. "She denies the sun and calls it night, despite the fact that it is very plainly day. That is most illogical." I watched his face contort into what he would call a smirk and could not help feeling that he was enjoying himself at my expense.  
  
"It's called love, T'Pol. Sometimes it makes ya' do crazy things. In Kate's case, she wanted to let Petruchio know that she was his completely; by bending to his will, even when it was ridiculous, she accomplished that."  
  
"A most illogical female."  
_

As I walked down the corridor, carrying my bowl of fresh plomeek I could not help but marvel at the human capacity to strive so hard to please another person. Even more amazing was the success of such endeavors.  
  
End Chapter 2


	3. 3rd Christmas

Title: Christmas, Chapter 3  
  
By: Angel  
  
Disclaimers: See Ch 1  
  
3rd Christmas Captain Archer's POV  
  
It's late. Not that time really has any meaning on a starship, but I know the artificially determined time is nearly midnight. I'm only stopping now because my eyes are so tired, I can't see straight anymore. I can't believe I've been in the Command Center since six am with nothing more than a couple of bathroom breaks. Ensign Fisk, Chef's assistant, brought me enough coffee throughout the day to keep a small army caffeinated, but I didn't eat any of the food he brought. 'I wonder if there's any dinner leftover in the mess hall?' I wonder as I drag my sorry butt down the dimly lit corridor.  
  
The doors to the mess open with a slight 'whoosh' and I pull myself through them. Although I expected the room to be empty at this time of night, I'm pleasantly surprised to see my exec and my chief engineer seated in a corner, far away from the entry. They have their backs to the entrance and seem to be sitting awfully close together. I manage a tired smile and am about to call out a 'hello' when I notice something. They didn't hear me come in; in fact, they seem to be in a completely different world. 'I must be imagining it. But, they sure look cozy.'  
  
I know it's wrong, but something makes me move closer to the couple; by staying behind debris from the last battle with the Xindi I manage to remain unnoticed, 'Even T'Pol doesn't seem to know I'm here. This is damn strange!' I get within two tables of them and take a seat. I don't intend to eavesdrop much, just enough to make sure I'm not interrupting something personal.  
  
Trip's voice is quiet, but I'm so focused on them I can make it out. "Here ya' are then, T'Pol. Merry Christmas." I watch him slide a small package across the table to her. It's wrapped in an old piece of cloth and tied with what appears to be a bootlace. 'Sad. I remember our first Christmas on Enterprise. The paper was beautiful and he had to convince her to rip it. Things have really gotten bad if we can't even spare wrap for Christmas presents. Damn Xindi!' As I watch her accept the gift, I'd swear her hand lingers on his a moment longer than necessary. Then, as she begins to gently untie the lace a conversation from last year comes back to me.  
  
  
  
_It was early morning, a few days after Christmas. Trip and I had just sat down to breakfast. "Where's T'Pol at today?" the engineer asked.  
  
"She offered to take an early watch on the bridge," I answered bringing my coffee cup to my mouth.  
  
His only response was a small grunt around his own full mouth. Soon, he handed me a package wrapped in gold foil. "Here ya' are, Jon. I'm sorry it's late, but I hope ya' like it."  
  
I hesitated a moment. "What about T'Pol's gift?" I'd inquired.  
  
"Oh. It's okay, we exchanged presents the other night. Go on, open it."  
_  
  
  
As I watch them now, I wonder if I'll be offered a gift tomorrow or if the past few months have put such distance between us that they won't even think of me this year. To be honest, I didn't even realize today is Christmas. I blink away the moisture in my eyes, afraid of what I'm becoming. Damn Expanse.  
  
"Thank you, Commander. It's very thoughtful of you." T'Pol is holding a small plaque in her hand. At least she doesn't call him 'Trip', yet. "'Home is Where the Heart Is', that is quite an emotional statement. Of course, I would expect nothing less." Did she just tease him? And since when is such a gift 'thoughtful' and not 'illogical'? What else is going on around here that I've been missing?  
  
Trip seems to blush slightly before responding. "I'm glad ya' like it. I had to scavenge that chunk of metal from a pile of scraps after our last firefight. It took weeks to polish it up and then to engrave it with a plasma torch." He puts weeks' worth of work into her gifts now? When did he find time?"  
  
I watch in dismay as T'Pol reaches next to her chair and produces a medium- sized box; it seems to be wrapped in a satiny material. She hands it Trip and again their hands seem to be in contact just a fraction of a second longer than is necessary. 'Okay, since when does T'Pol give Christmas presents?' I wonder. I think back to last year. Nope, I definitely didn't receive anything from her, just Trip.  
  
Now he's definitely blushing as he unwraps the box. I can see why. It was wrapped in what appears to be a pajama top. "I'll need that back, I'm afraid, Commander," her tone is soft, melodious, not a sound I ever thought I'd hear from a Vulcan. And more teasing? What the hell is this?  
  
Trip opens the box and pulls out several large candles. "Aren't these yours?" he asks, turning one over in his hand. I can smell the faint scent from here, but I can't quite place it. Something earthy and at the same time musky.  
  
"They were mine, now they are yours. I anticipate that there may be nights when we are unable to conduct our neuro-pressure sessions and thought it wise to begin instructing you in the arts of meditation as well to help you through those times." She sounds logical again, but there is an undertone of expectation, like she's looking forward to those lessons. Wait a minute; 'neuro-pressure'? I thought that was done months ago.  
  
I look over again and see him try to hand the candles back to her. "T'Pol, I 'preciate it, but I can't accept these. Who knows when we'll be out of this damn expanse. Ya' may not be able to get candles again for awhile."  
  
"I would be most disappointed if you refuse my gift, Commander."  
  
Sighing, Trip is looking down at the present. He's nodding and beginning to stand. "Well, all right then. I'm lookin' forward to it. Listen, I think we should get goin'. It's pretty late and we both have duty first thin' in the mornin'" He's pulling her chair out slightly for her, and she's rising. I have to shift my position a little to avoid being seen, but there's no way I want them to know I'm here now.  
  
I watch as they near the door, his hand on the small of her back gently guiding her. 'I thought Vulcans didn't like to be touched!' Just as they reach the hatch, T'Pol stops and turns to Trip. "Merry Christmas, Commander." And, oh my God! She just reached up and kissed him on the cheek before walking out of the mess hall. Judging by the look on his face, he's just as surprised as I am. "Uh, yeah. Merry Christmas to you, too," I hear him mutter as he exits.  
  
Half an hour later, I'm still sitting in stunned silence. What has become of me? Of my relationships with my friends? Since when are Trip and T'Pol so friendly? At what point did my work...no, my obsession with the Expanse take over so completely that I didn't even notice their friendship develop?  
  
Rising from my secluded seat, I determine that this is too much to deal with right now. But I swear, the minute we are done with the Xindi, the three of us are having a nice long breakfast and I'm going to get to know my friends all over again. The doors to the mess hall close on the empty room as I make my way back to the Command Center.  
  
The End 


End file.
